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The Bible Tells Me

I’m not the Bible scholar I should be. I know some verses; not as many as I ought. Still, I find most of my experiences can be framed or underscored, explained or illuminated, by Scripture. Or maybe a hymn or a worship song, a devotional or a testimony. Frequently, I have those “Oh, yeah” moments when I see God clearly in an event. Or realized that I should have seen Him.

These are the moments of “The Bible tells me.”

These essays reflect that. Do know that I can proof-text as well as anyone. I have a concordance, and I know how to use it. Well, truthfully, I do all of that online now, where I can quickly find a passage, see it in many versions, and choose the one I like best. I try not to be narrow, but instead broad, as I apply Bible words to my experiences. I know that your interpretations and understanding may be different than mine. But I also know that our God is big enough for all of us.

I have a friend who, in her prayer time, likes to tell jokes to God. “I know He knows the punch line,” she says. “But I tell them anyway. He likes it when I laugh.”

He likes it when I laugh. I’m going to hang on to that. It’s Biblical. The Bible tells me.

Our mouths were filled with laughter then,
and our tongues with shouts of joy.
Then they said among the nations,
“The Lord has done great things for them.”
The Lord had done great things for us;
we were joyful.

Psalm 126: 2,3 (HCSB)

Come, Ye Thankful People, Come*

| Joy, Kindness

And we were thankful.

Kevin, April, and Peter came late Thursday afternoon. At one point, Peter had a grilled cheese sandwich, and we snacked on some things they had brought from April’s family’s Thanksgiving dinner. Friday, we got out the tree and the ornaments, and decked the halls.

 

Peter, who sleeps on a sturdy, blow-up mattress in our living room, had a large, glowing, tree-shaped nightlight, all night long.

On Friday, for lunch, we had a dinner that is popular with the family members. “Boats,” is how we refer to them, and the title of the product is “Old El Paso Soft Taco Boats,” so you can look that up. I put out vegetarian refried beans, cooked ground beef, rice, tomatoes, lettuce, cheese, melted cheese sauce, and salsa, so everyone can make their own.

 

 

I had another plan, for a family project. Members of our church, in addition to several other churches in town, purchase items to donate to a local helping agency. That agency creates a store where families who have limited incomes can come purchase gifts for their children. They will pay a much lower price for these items, so they can have gifts for their kids and teen-agers. I suggested that Kevin could choose gifts for teen-aged boys, April could select gifts for teen-aged girls, David and Peter could find gifts for school-agers, and I would look for gifts for babies. And David and I would pay for all the gifts. Knowing that Friday morning could be really crowded, with all the post-Thanksgiving shoppers. I thought we should go to Target on Saturday morning. That was perfect. We were waiting at the doors at a few minutes before 8:00 a.m. As soon as the doors were opened, we got carts, fanned out, and shopped.

 

 

On Sunday, local bikers come to the churches and gather up the toys and gifts that were purchased. They roar up to each church, along with a truck that is pulling a trailer. All the toys and gifts are piled in and the bikers go on to another congregation.

 

 

 

If we can serve others, we should serve. If we can teach, we should teach. If we can encourage others, we should encourage them. If we can give, we should be generous. If we are leaders, we should do our best. If we are good to others, we should do it cheerfully.

Romans 12:7-8 (Contemporary English Version)

 

 

*Hymn “Come, Ye Thankful People, Come”

Punctuation

| Patience, Peace

I know people who work at the newspaper, and I think they are hard workers and do their best to help us readers be informed. Recently, I had a “hmmmm” response, to a headline from a couple of days ago.

Here’s how I read this in my head: “County’s unspent rent, aid funds at risk.” (i.e. the county had money that wasn’t needed for rent, and now they had funds to aid people at risk.) I thought that there was left-over money that renters hadn’t needed, and it was now available to help with funding . . . something important.

I read the paper first thing in the morning, while I’m eating breakfast, so I’m not at my most competent. I do put on my glasses to see things well, but I might not be alert enough to get the drift of what the newspaper people have intended. And, of course, if I’d read the headline carefully, I’d have realized that the word should have been  aids instead of aid, if it had wanted to convey what I thought it meant. But then, when I read the article, I realized that this was a bad outcome. The funds that had been available to people had not been distributed in a timely manner, and now families were now in danger of being evicted if they can’t come up with the money. The article continued, saying that Corpus Christi and Laredo hadn’t distributed any of their funds, and other counties were also very behind. There seems to be hope that lagging localities can get some help organizing their work.

Here’s what Wednesday’s front page said (and see how they properly used a comma to help readers understand; “spending soars adding” would have been an odd phrase if read without that pause). Things are looking UP! (for folks who have money to spend). The idea is that people have been cooped up at home, not going shopping very much, and they are ready to go spending some of that money that they’ve been hoarding, saving, and keeping in their wallets/piggy banks/cookie jars. So folks with cash in their pockets are going to have a, hmmm, very Merry Christmas, it seems like.

 

 

 

My dear children, let’s not just talk about love; let’s practice real love. This is the only way we’ll know we’re living truly, living in God’s reality. It’s also the way to shut down debilitating self-criticism, even when there is something to it. For God is greater than our worried hearts and knows more about us than we do ourselves.

1 John 3:18 (The Message translation)

 

Our church collects Christmas gifts for families. We shop for items for babies to teen-ages, and those things go to Mission Waco, where low-income families in our community can purchase Christmas items for their children at an 80% discount of the retail price. Hopefully, some of those people who’ve been cooped up at home (and haven’t been able to spend the cash they’ve accrued) will make a trip to Target or Wal-Mart or some other great place to buy gifts for the kids in struggling families.

I Might Save Lots of Things, But I Keep Forgetting When I’m Supposed to be Saving Some Time

| Patience, Peace

It’s possible that there are some people who truly like Daylight Saving Time. I’m not really one of them. It is easier for me, I suppose, because I don’t have a schedule for each day. So, I’ve eased into the difference, getting up when I wake up, going to bed when I’m tired and sleepy. David, who does need to get to work at a reasonable and reliable time, reset all the clocks, so I at least know what time it is, in the current state of TIME. (And it really is Daylight Saving Time and not Daylight Savings Time.)

Many years ago, I read a series of children’s books about the Moffat family, by author Eleanor Estes, who won several book awards. Jane thought of herself as the Middle Moffat, having older and younger siblings. In one of the chapters, she wonders about Daylight Saving Time, instituted during during World War I. She imagines that there is a big box where the daylight is being stored so that it can be taken out and utilized for longer days. (There is a charming line drawing that shows her peering into a large box with sunbeams radiating out of it.) The Middle Moffat was chosen as a Newbery Honor Book  (in 1942).

It seems like a nice idea, when I’ve got a deadline, and I’m concerned about meeting it. I could walk or drive to the big box, just as the sun’s going down, and gather up some of that stored daylight. Think of how much yard work I could get done, if there was some additional daylight. Would I need to pay for more daylight? Would the box give me some additional daylight, but require me to have less daylight on some other day? Like the middle of January? When I might not really want, or need, extra daylight?

I looked up “Daylight Saving Time,” hoping to get the basic information. The article had 6,296 words in it. It contained the entire history of Daylight Saving Time in every country in the world. In detail. That’s the link, up in the first sentence, in case you’d like the very informative history of Daylight Saving Time.

Meanwhile, on Wednesday, I went to the elementary school where I volunteer to work with a kid, where we read together while she eats lunch. Read a page, eat some lunch, read another page, eat some more lunch. And, we’re done a little bit after 1:00. She went back to her classroom, and I went to run a couple of errands. And then, eek! I’m attending a couple of seminars at the museum, and the first one runs from 3:00 to 4:00. And, I’d lost track of time and it was 2:45 already. I turned the car toward the museum, knowing that I’d be late. And, I was about halfway there when I realized that, Oh, yeah. Daylight Saving Time! I’d not remembered, at all, that I hadn’t changed the clock in the car. And, because I’d been in the house, with all the clocks that David had reset, I’d left the house to go to the school and not paid any attention to the clock in the car.

I went back home, had some lunch, got a jacket (it can be chilly in the Museum), and then leisurely made my way down to Baylor, in plenty of time for the first lecture. I should be better organized next Wednesday. Maybe.

 

The night has passed, and the day has come near. Let us therefore cast away the deeds of darkness, and let us put on the armour of light.

Romans 13:12 (The New Matthew Bible)

 

I need a while to get used to the late afternoon darkness. A week, or so, or maybe a little more. I’ll probably be completely accustomed to it by time spring arrives, and we change the time back again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Maybe I’m a Little Bit Over-Excited About My New Top

| Joy

I don’t regulate my body temperature very well. It’s a diabetic thing, I think. Or maybe a kidney problem thing. Or a combo.

I’ve always had somewhat of a problem with heat, which is somewhat easier to combat. I can down some really cold drink and feel better. Or, sit in front of an air conditioner or even a fan. It seems easier to cool down than it is to warm up.

And now that cold weather is approaching, I’m looking at my warmer clothes and thinking about how many layers of them can I realistically wear at one time. (Re: That kid in the movie A Christmas Story who has on a tight snowsuit and can hardly move.)

 

So, I was at Wal-Mart a couple of days ago, and found a great, warmish-but-not-too-hot garment.

I liked the colors, and, oh, my, it is so soft.

 

I’m afraid I like it so much that I will wear it out before spring.

 

Possibly I should go back and get another one. And, really, that’s been happening.

 

 

I bought a largish size, because I thought that I might want to have a shirt or thinnish tee-shirt underneath it. I got home and immediately tried it on. It was big. Substantially big. I could put on two or three shirts underneath the plaid one. (Did I mention how very soft it is?) So, I gathered up the shirt and receipt and went back to Wal-Mart the next day. I returned the soft, lovely shirt and went to the clothing area to get a shirt that was the next size down. And, because I do not live in a perfect world, there wasn’t an identical shirt in the next size down. And I thought, well, probably the next size down would work. I bought that one and took it home, put it on, and tried to pretend that it would be fine with another shirt underneath the soft, pretty, plaid shirt. I could wear it, but it was just not roomy enough. And I was sad.

And then, hmmm. There are other Wal-Mart stores in the Waco area. And, surely, all the Wal-Mart stores carry the same inventory. Right? I got in the car and drove straight to Belmead to that Wal-Mart. I parked, went into the store, got a cart, and went straightway to the clothing. I walked around and found pants in the same fabric, same plaid, same soft, soft fabric, and I wondered if the top/pants combo were supposed to be pajamas. But it didn’t matter, the tops weren’t there. I wandered a bit, and found a nice (not fabulous, but nice; soft, but not quite as soft) top. Gray with little stars on it. I put it in the cart. And, then, I went around another corner, and TA-DAH!!!! Yes!!! There were lovely, soft, plaid tops. Several of them, hanging up, just waiting for a shopper to notice them. I went through the tops and, more TA-DAH!! They had the size I wanted!

That was Wednesday. Today, Thursday, as I write this, I am wearing my wonderful, soft top. First thing this morning, when it was chilly, underneath the soft, plaid top, I put on a long-sleeved turtleneck top that’s a lighter version of the purple stripe. I wore that all morning, until things warmed up. Then, I spent most of the afternoon wearing just the soft, plaid top. Now, as I write this, I have put on a lightweight white knit top underneath the soft, lovely plaid top. I will probably wear it tomorrow. And maybe Saturday. I might wear it to church on Sunday.

You would think that I’d never bought a nice, new (soft) article of clothing in my whole life. And maybe I should go back to the Belmead Wal-Mart, or the big Wal-Mart in Hewitt, and get another, identical, soft warm top. It’s possible that I’ll wear this one out. It’s just now November.

 

 

“Or imagine a woman who has ten coins and loses one. Won’t she light a lamp and scour the house, looking in every nook and cranny until she finds it? And when she finds it you can be sure she’ll call her friends and neighbors: ‘Celebrate with me! I found my lost coin!’

Count on it—that’s the kind of party God’s angels throw every time one lost soul turns to God.”

Luke 15:8-10 (The Message)

 

Sounds like I should wear my new, soft, plaid top to church on Sunday.

 

It Was Sort of Nice Outside

| Faithfulness, Patience, Peace

After a doctor’s appointment and a couple of errands today, I thought I could work in the yard some. The temperature was almost 70° and the sun was shining. There was also a sort of stiffish breeze. I went out with a jacket on. I noticed, as I walked into the back yard, that there were some sticks on the grass. So I went to pick them up. And, soon, I had so many that I couldn’t wrap my fingers all the way around them. I walked around to the green bins (the ones where we put the leaves and weeds and dead plants) and tossed my handful of twigs and sticks in the larger bin. I went to the back yard again, and picked up more sticks. There were sticks everywhere! The wind had been blowing at a pretty nice clip all morning, enough that any little dead end (or middling-sized dead end) of a branch, had snapped right off and tumbled down into the yard.

There were sticks in the grass, sticks in the garden, and sticks in the back part of the yard where I’m trying to get Asian Jasmine to grow (on the north-ish side at the back) and sticks in the thyme garden (on the south-ish side at the back). It seemed as though the ends of many of the limbs on the trees, an old, large pecan tree and a much younger, but still pretty large, crepe myrtle tree, were small enough to easily snap right off under the unrelenting breeze. And it was, indeed, unrelenting.

I’d pick up sticks and put them in my left hand until my hand was full, and then walk over to put them in the larger green bin. I was putting leaves in the smaller bin. I kept thinking that I was done picking up little sticks. But, the wind kept on blowing. I’d walk across a part of the yard where, just a few minutes earlier, I’d picked up a handful of sticks and twigs, and, suddenly, there were just as many sticks and twigs as there had been a few minutes previously.

And, yes, I could take the big bin down to where the sticks were, but, I kept thinking that I’d picked them all up, and then the wind would blow and more sticks would gently float down to the ground. I do have a good-sized collapsible, lightweight, green bin. I finally got that and toted it around the back yard, tossing in the various sizes of sticks and twigs.

When I, at last, emptied the collapsible bin’s contents into the large green bin, I put everything away and went back inside. I checked the weather and saw that it’s going to be just as windy on Friday as it was on Thursday. One part of me thinks that, surely, all the little ends on the twigs on the trees have already been broken off. One part of me knows better.

 

The Scriptures say, “Humans wither like grass, and their glory fades like wild flowers. Grass dries up, and flowers fall to the ground. But what the Lord has said will stand forever.” Our good news to you is what the Lord has said.
1 Peter 1:24-25 (Contemporary English Version)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

plants

| Joy, Love, Patience

I’m trying to be a better plant caregiver. Soooo many plants have met their doom at my hands. I might give them too much water, but, really, I’m much more irresponsible about watering, and I forget about a plant (or, more than one plant). I sort of like the plants that wilt when they need water, so I know when I need to rescue them. But some plants are just stoic and try to put on a brave face when I walk by them, and I’m startled when they suddenly just give up and drop all their leaves at once.

The fine folks at the Wal-Mart gardening area have helped me solve one problem, at least a little.

In the houseplant area, there is a great variety of kinds of plants and sizes of plants. For many of the available plants, there are helpful labels that tell the less-than-knowledgeable plant purchasers how to make a reasonable purchase.

 

They stick little informational cards into the plant’s container that tells what kind of light the plant needs.

 

 

 

 

 

 

(Solomon) could talk about all kinds of plants, from large trees to small bushes, and he taught about animals, birds, reptiles, and fish.

1 Kings 4:33 (Contemporary English Version)

 

 

 

I know most of the names of the plants that are growing in our yard. And, through trial and error, I’ve figured out what kinds of plants that I can grow with a degree of competence. And which ones I simply can’t.

Gardening

| Faithfulness, Goodness, Joy, Patience

It rained again. I’m not complaining. We’ve run the sprinkler system about four, maybe five times. All spring and summer and into the fall. Everything’s still growing well. I’m grateful, to be sure, but it seems like the mosquitoes will not give up. It’s fall. It’s chilly. They should be dead, I think.

(Hmmm. I looked it up. According to: https://www.cmmcp.org › mosquito-information: Mosquitoes function best at 80 degrees F, become lethargic at 60 degrees F, and cannot function below 50 degrees F.)

Okay, when I was outside today, the temperature was in the upper 70’s. So, seems like I should keep on squirting the bug spray on, probably for another month. At least.
I spent a while yesterday and then some, today, too, cleaning up the thyme garden.

I did wonder, when rain was falling, more days than not, if it would be too much water on the herbs. But, there wasn’t really anything I could do. The water always dried up, or soaked in, in a day or so. But, then, rain would fall again.

And now, I’m not sure that too much rain might have harmed the thyme, or maybe this is just what a thyme plant’s life cycle looks like. Possibly, they’ll just hunker down during the winter and bounce back to life next spring. Some of the plants completely died over the summer. Others are making a small comeback. I’ve replaced a couple. The three better-looking plants at the front are three different varieties that I found at the end of last fall. They’ve thrived through the winter, spring, and summer. The big green mass at the far right is Creeping Mother of Thyme. I’ve had it for years, and it has grown and spread and been dependable.

I’ll just have to wait and see what next spring brings.
I’ve grown different kinds of mint for quite a while. I don’t cook very much with them, I just like the way they look and smell. One hot, hot day, last summer, I came home from church, walked through the patio, and went in the house. I didn’t think about watering the patio plants. (And I always water the patio plants.) Then the next day, when I went back out, the lovely curled mint and chocolate mint plants were dead, dead, dead. As was the pineapple mint plant on the shelf beneath them. I was horrified and really sad. The curly and chocolate mints were new to me, and the pineapple mint was a plant I’d had for years. I poured water on the hard, dry dirt and grieved. Then, about two weeks later, TA-DAH!! Really! a couple of tiny leaves were coming up. When I bought and potted the plants, the chocolate mint was on one side and the curly mint was on the other. Apparently, they have different root systems. The curly mint is now all around the edges of the pot, and the chocolate mint is in the center. I don’t care; I’m just glad they showed up again.

And, the plant on the right, with the red flowers, is pineapple sage. I planted it here when we very first moved in this house, and I was working on making a garden. When you rub the leaves with your fingers, they will smell strongly of pineapple. It’s amazing.

I was going to take a bit of a break, and went to the patio to sit on the bench there. It’s where I’ve been sitting to read in the late afternoons. I lean back on the pillows, balance a glass of tea on the arm rest, and enjoy a book. When I went to rest for a moment this afternoon, I couldn’t. We’d had a short, but significant, rainfall, mid-morning. I touched a cushion. It seemed all right. I pressed down, and, no, it wasn’t all right. The sun had warmed, and dried, the cushion tops, but quite a bit of rainwater had settled in the bottom of the cushions, and also to the bench. So I ended up on the concrete steps.

 

And, when I was out in the garden, I had the same idea. I could sit down for a moment. Nope. These cushions were really wet. Top to bottom. And, there was water on the bench’s slats.

 

No rest for weary me. I didn’t want to traipse up the yard just to have a seat on the concrete steps. Not all that comfortable. So, I picked up the rake and went to gather up fallen leaves.

 

What beautiful tents, Jacob, oh, your homes, Israel!
Like valleys stretching out in the distance, like gardens planted by rivers,
Like sweet herbs planted by the gardener God, like red cedars by pools and springs,
Numbers 24: 5,6 (The Message Translation)

 

A garden is always a series of losses set against a few triumphs, like life itself. – May Sarton (2014). “At Seventy: A Journal”, p.53, Open Road Media
As long as I can put on my overalls and my Crocs . . .

You Can’t Make an Omelet Without Breaking a Few Eggs

| Goodness, Joy

The reference dates from 1796 in English, and from the French, “on ne saurait faire d’omelette sans casser des oeufs” (1742 and earlier), attributed François de Charette.

The proverb (in English) is: “You can’t make an omelette without breaking eggs,” and is defined as: In order to achieve something, it is inevitable and necessary that some mistakes are made or some sacrifices must occur.

The proverb is just window dressing for the story that comes next.

Many years ago, when I was teaching at a conference center in New Mexico, both boys were with me for those three weeks. We stayed in a small apartment, and every morning, I’d get up, get ready to go, and rustle up some breakfast for the kids. One morning, I cracked an egg to make an omelet for my breakfast. After I cracked it, I told Kevin (who was up by then) to come and look. I thought he’d probably not ever seen a double-yolked egg before. While it’s not unheard of, it’s certainly unusual. I kept that egg in the bowl I cracked it in, to show to Jeremy when he got up. I cracked another egg for my own breakfast, and, ta-dah, it also had two yolks. Wow! Those hearty New Mexico chickens. I don’t remember if I kept both double-yolked eggs, to make a scrambled-egg breakfast the next morning, but I certainly didn’t toss them out. Someone in the apartment ate them.

I think that, probably, I’ve had other experiences with double-yolked eggs, but, they don’t come up regularly. And, that brings me to the past couple of weeks.

 

 

 

It all seems really odd. I know that egg candling is a thing (where someone holds a lit candle behind an egg to check to see the health of the chick that’s growing there). I suppose that someone could do that with unfertile eggs and check for double-yolks. That seems like a lot of trouble, especially for folks on a farm that have lots of chickens laying eggs.

One site says: It turns out that doubles turn out more frequently among young hens than older birds, and that flocks of hens tend to be the same age. The chance of a young hen laying a double-yolked egg are roughly 1:30.

So maybe the eggs I’m buying are coming from “young hens.” Otherwise, the odds of getting a double-yolked egg are 1 in 1000. I suppose I’ve eaten 3000 eggs in the past several years, and I’m just catching up.

 

She gets up before dawn to prepare breakfast for her household
    and plan the day’s work for her servant girls.

Proverbs 31:15 (New Living Translation)

 

Well, David prefers a bowl of cereal, and I don’t have any servant girls.  But, I do make myself that egg and cheese burrito. When Peter’s here, I often make him scrambled eggs. Maybe next time he comes, I’ll get another double-yolked egg.

A Movie to Remember

| Joy, Patience

Back in the Olden, Olden Days, when I was a teenager, in Waco, we had three television stations. At some point, we got a big, tall antenna at our house, and were able to get a couple of the Dallas stations, and it seemed great! But, nothing, at all, compared to these modern times, when scores and scores of television stations are available. Twenty-four/seven.

It didn’t seem so awful to us, and, as a teenager, I wasn’t watching television ‘way into the night, on school nights, anyway. And, even on the weekend, there just wasn’t much to watch. And that was challenging, because when it came to baby-sitting on weekends, the little kids would go to bed reasonably early, and then, after the news, there might be old movies.

I haven’t done research on this, but I suspect that older women, like myself, have those memories of watching old movies. And, it seemed as though, when we were baby-sitting, and looking for a movie to watch, it often turned out to be one that we’d already seen.

Several years ago, Jeremy and I were traveling back home to Waco after being at a conference center in North Carolina for three weeks. We stopped for lunch, and, a large, cold, soft drink got spilled into my lap while we were eating. (No need to mention how that happened.) It wasn’t a disaster, and we traveled on. We’d planned to stop to spend the night somewhere in Mississippi, I think. As we started looking for a place to stay, we saw a hotel that boasted laundry rooms. Done. We got some fast food and checked in.

I’d packed up all my clothes and Jeremy’s clothes in suitcases that I hadn’t planned to bring into the hotel, just a small tote with overnight stuff. In our room, I changed into my nightgown and sent Jeremy with my cola clothing and some quarters to the laundry room just across from our room. Then, we began to settle in to have our dinner and watch some television. I ran through several channels and then stopped. I recognized the opening credits of a movie.

“Oh, Jeremy,” I said. “This is a great movie! And,” I went on,”it’s Auntie’s babysitting movie!”

And Jeremy said, “Huh?”

When we were teenagers, and would be babysitting, we’d watch old movies after the kids had gone to bed. And, so very often, it would be the same movie that we’d watched last time we babysat. (I’m not trying to explain how it happened, just that it did happen.) And, parents often came home before the movie was over, so it might take weeks or months before we’d actually seen the entire movie. At one house, we might see the end of the movie. At the next house, we might see the end of the evening news and then the beginning of the familiar movie. It might take many babysitting evenings before we’d seen all the parts of our movie.

My sister’s babysitting movie was Mister Roberts. And I didn’t even ask Jeremy if he was okay with watching this movie. I just said, “It’s a wonderful movie. You’ll like it.” And it seemed like he did. Really, Henry Fonda, Jimmy Cagney, and Jack Lemon, who won an Academy Award for his part.

My sister’s best friend’s babysitting movie was Black Orpheus, set in Rio during Carnival. It’s a retelling of the story of the Greek legend of Orpheus and Eurydice. It is visually very dark (as I remember it, because I also saw, at least parts, of the movie). And, the story’s pretty dark, too.

And, my babysitting movie . . .

I sat down this afternoon and looked at the TV listings. Hmmmm. Anything I’d like to see this evening? And, oh, yes, there it was, on the Turner Classic Movies site. An Affair to Remember. I cannot tell you how many parts of that movie I saw over the years of babysitting. Up until a few years ago, I had never seen the opening credits of the movie, and, at that time, I actually watched the entire movie, start to finish, right until . . . well, I won’t spoil anything. You might want to visit some old movie site, or go to your local library and see if they have a copy of the video. Or, maybe you’ll just reminisce about other touching experiences you had as a teenager.

 

Jesus’ disciples came to him and asked, “Why do you use nothing but stories when you speak to the people?” I use stories when I speak to them because when they look, they cannot see, and when they listen, they cannot hear or understand.

Matthew 13: 10, 13

 

Movies are fun and interesting and emotional, but I am grateful that, when I need encouragement or guidance or discernment, there’s a place I can go that’s a little more concrete than a movie theater.

The Havoc of February

| Goodness, Patience, Peace

Remember February? When I looked back at that post, the first sentence was “I don’t know what they’re gong to call what happened this week, but “It snowed,” isn’t going to be enough.”

Well, we’re calling it “February,” as in: “Remember February?” when we might be searching to buy heavier coats than we used to wear. Or: “Oh, yeah, February!”  when we’re thinking about beginning to stock up on non-perishables to store in cabinets and pantries. Or: “Hmmm. February. Should we go ahead and try to find some place to purchase some firewood?”

And some folks have spent the spring and summer restructuring yards and gardens, after perennial flowers, shrubs, and even full-grown trees perished in FEBRUARY!

At our house, we came out pretty well.

The Good, Bad, and the Ugly

Back in May, I mentioned a tree that I’d had to treat because it had big, brown spots on the leaves. I spoke to a nursery employee who sold me these little iron pellets, and said sprinkle them around the tree, walking in a circle at the edge of the leaves’ distance from its trunk. Then, water it in. It’s working. The tree’s leaves are a beautiful yellow-green and don’t have spots any more. I think it’s a Pin Oak. It’s in the smaller area of the yard on the left-hand side of the driveway. In the larger part of the front yard, there’s a Red Oak.

 

Other nearby trees did not fare so well.

 “Rain and snow fall from the sky. But they don’t return without watering the earth
that produces seeds to plant and grain to eat.
That’s how it is with my words. They don’t return to me without doing everything I send them to do.”

Isaiah 55:10-11 (Contemporary English Version)